It was a Tuesday
by koshemi
Summary: Of a car crash, a ferris wheel, one meddling blonde, and a love confession on a couch. (RINHARU / RATED M FOR SMUT)


_**It was a Tuesday**_

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**disclaimer: I don't own free! and I make absolutely no profit off of this **

* * *

The first time they meet is on a Saturday, or maybe a Sunday – Haru isn't too sure.

The screeching of tires is muffled by the mezzo voices of the restaurant but the inevitable crash of what Haru later finds out to be a speeding drunken driver is ear-shattering, and everyone in the restaurant hears it.

Some people stand to see the commotion, and then some more stand to follow the crowd. The rest are stuck in a strange half standing, half sitting position where they don't know if the effort is worth the sight of mangled metal and flesh.

Haru, honestly, couldn't care less. But nevertheless Nagisa grabs him by the shirt and drags him out, and Haru lets him, like he always does, but not before he disentangles himself from the apron around his waist and throws it up on a hook.

It's strange, Haru thinks as the scene comes into view, because it isn't as half as dramatic as the news reports say.

It isn't as loud either. The scene blends into the background of the bustling city around them, too busy to falter for the single life that lay grotesquely contorted, upside down, bottom half still attached to the seat by the seatbelt, which in the end, had provided little help. Only moments afterwards, the street light it had rammed gives a weak creak, and falls. The shrieks of the spectators drown out the sickening sound of it sinking into the car. The warmth of the blazing fire pricks their chilled faces and illuminates their shadowed eyes as it grows to envelope the vehicle and the motorist inside.

But the police cars and the ambulance and the firefighters – those are loud. The blaring of sirens fills his ears, and Haru turns towards the cars weaving through traffic, whereas Nagisa is too horrified, too emotionally invested, to take his eyes off the dancing inferno and veins created by the steady flow of thick blood travelling between the small cracks of the asphalt.

Haru doesn't see what the big fuss is about. This man was, without a doubt, dead, his death a consequence his own own idiocy.

Death is was just a consequence.

Everyone dies.

Everyone leaves

That's why Haru accepts death with open arms and embraces it with impassive blankness, because the tears does not, or cannot, come anymore. Any semblance of his past grief has been buried, and he has no plans to mingle with the skeletons of his closet.

The fire goes out with a fizz and a trail of smoke rises into the black sky as men, clad in yellow, hose it own.

Haru blinks when he realises one of the men hurtling towards him, face half obscured by a hood, a large glove covered hand flapping in a manner that Haru assumes is a wave

Nearing, Haru realises that this is Makoto – a childhood friend that he had spent most of his teenage years with. Nagisa rushes ahead and flings himself into the taller man's arm. Haru trails afterwards quietly and sends a small acknowledging nod to Makoto, because there's nothing else to do with Nagisa in need of comfort.

Makoto looks apologetic as he gives a warm smile in response, soothingly rubbing Nagisa's back as the blonde clutches onto the yellow fabric and sobs.

He turns back to face the scene once more, feeling a slight pang of estrangement in watching the display of heartfelt motions that he had long along deemed a waste of time.

It's only after a handful of minutes and seconds that Haru realises he's been watching a red haired male for a while now. The object of his fixation is wearing a blue uniform that Haru identifies as a cop uniform. The sleeves are rolled up to showcase built forearms, but even at this distance Haru can tell he's also built in other places too as he appreciates the way the uniform clings in all the right ways in all the right places.

Haru gives a start at a pat on his shoulder, and he peers to the side to catch Makoto wave goodbye. Haru gives a small wave in return before turning back to the red haired only to be slightly surprised to see bright red orbs staring straight back at him. It's the kind of stare that makes Haru shiver and wish he had another layer over his thin white chef uniform. But he refuses to look away because somehow it seems like losing, and he refuses to lose

They lock eyes. and wordlessly seize the other up. Time stands on its toes, the seconds hanging in the air, as it waits for them.

When the cop starts stalking in his direction, Haru blinks, surprised, and wonders how someone could possibly look more of a predator. He watches the lips stretch and curl into a small grin, and he gives another shiver at the sight of pointed pearly whites. The corners of his lips turn downwards in response, feeling irked for reacting.

Placing his hand on Nagisa's shoulder, making his way to return to the kitchen, he mutters, "We're leaving."

Away from the red eyes and the foul stench of burnt flesh and blood.

* * *

The second time the meet is on a Tuesday, Haru thinks, but Nagisa argues that it's a Wednesday.

It's past 8, and the dinner time rush has died down and there's only an hour left until closing. The restaurant still has a pleasant quiet buzz from the three filled tables and Haru leans on the counter that connects the kitchen and the dining room to lazily watch the customers consume his cooking and interact with one another. There's nothing to cook, and he thinks that there is little to no possibility of any more customers for the rest of the night.

But he hears a small tinkle of the bell on the door. He lazily peers from under his lashes at the new addition, to be slightly startled at the sight of the cop from last week, one hand taking off his hat and the other on the doorknob as he laughs at something with his companion who has a dark sort of grey for hair with turquoise eyes.

Haru watches them enter the room, and it's only after Nagisa seats them that Rin spares a moment to acknowledge his presence, throwing him an infuriating smirk that does a mixture of making Haru's stomach flip and teeth grind.

Nagisa interacts with the two cops and though Haru can't hear them, he gets the distinct impression they're talking about him. They laugh, and the grey haired one just looks completely amused.

Finding himself bored again, he rips a page off on of the extra notepads and pilfers a pen. He starts doodling absentmindedly, the pen gliding over the small piece of paper forming circles and squares, and shapes he doesn't quite process because he's not quite there.

"Rin."

Haru looks up at Nagisa questioningly, who looks down at him with a look of mischief.

"Huh?" he answers unintelligibly.

Nagisa points back to the direction where the blonde remembers the cops to be and smiles brightly. "His name is Matsuoka Rin., if you're wondering. You can thank me later."

Haru grunts, and looks away, taking the pen off the paper and capping it shut. "I wasn't wondering."

"Oh yeah?"

It's the smug voice suggesting sweet victory that makes Haru wonder what makes Nagisa so sure he's won, so he looks at the other to see him hold up a slip of paper – the one he had been drawing on – to show the rough sketch of what was definitely the red eyed cop seated a couple of metres away.

Haru's cheeks tinge red. He snatches the paper out of Nagisa's hand and crunches it into a ball before lobbing it into the waste bin.

Nagisa laughs merrily before handing him an order of just fried rice which he takes without thanks.

He opens the fridge and swiftly takes out the vegetables, showing just how long he's worked in this environment, and he holds them in one hand, using the other to slide out a cutting board and knife.

Locating the spam and spices in the cupboard and scooping up the rest of the rice in the rice cooker, he begins to cook with a lazy kind of mechanical precision that lets his mind wonder about the red eyed male.

He places the meal down on the counter for Nagisa, but the blonde jumps out of his seat suddenly and scuttles off, squeaking to Haru to take it himself because _he needed to go to the toilet _

Haru stands there for a moment, blinking, but then resigns himself with a sigh.

As he walks towards the table, he refuses to make eye contact so he keeps his eyes firmly focused on the white tablecloth, where large hands are clasped, twiddling thumbs.

"Your order," says Haru curtly, placing down the dish as nicely as he can, which takes a surprising amount of effort.

"Thank you, Haru."

Haru lets out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding when he hears his name uttered in such a velvety tone that makes his spine tingle and his toes curl – a voice he somehow just _knows _belongs to the stranger named Rin.

He turns to leave the table, when a hand shoots out and grabs him by the wrist and stops him.

Haru looks back in surprise and for the first time he realises that the grey haired companion is nowhere to be seen. Their gazes collide.

"Keep me company while I eat? Eating alone is no fun."

Haru stares for a moment, and he's so tempted to walk away because everything about this man screams effort and god knows what happened the last time he put effort in anything. So he opens his mouth to decline, but the pleading tone pulls at a heartstring.

Haru hesitates. Rin waits

He sits down.

* * *

It's only a week after they start dating that Rin has decided to take Haru to the amusement park, because he wants to hear Haru scream.

Confidence permeates from every pore of his body, because a few rollercoasters isn't the only thing he has planned for the blue eyed male – he'd get that scream if it was the last thing he did.

The day goes smoothly much to Rin's glee, except Haru doesn't scream once even though Rin foresees the need for lozenges for himself after the third try.

Before they know it, the sun has long disappeared under the horizon and their feet ache from waiting in long queues, and the night sky is so clear and cloudless and the stars so bright they can almost see them blend in with the bright glimmering lights of the Ferris wheel as they wait for their turn.

They try and guess which colour carriage they'll get by counting the number people ahead of them and predicting the movements of the Ferris wheel. Haru knows it's moronic, but it's amusing, and he can't help himself.

Haru guesses blue, and Rin guesses red. They bicker and accuse each other of egotistical bias until their turn finally arrives. They end up riding a yellow carriage, but it's no longer of any consequence when they can't remember what they were arguing about in the first place.

They sit across each other and they gaze out at the sky, catching up to the minutes and hours as the pace dies down and all that's left is to drink in the comforting presence of each other.

They're haven't even reached the top when Rin winds his hand behind Haru's neck and holds him in place as he leans forward to kiss him on the lips.

It's only so long until a simple kiss isn't nearly enough, and soon Haru's shirt is hanging off his shoulders, Rin's zip undone. Haru sits on the metal floor of the carriage between Rin's legs, and he's unabashedly lapping at the white pearly droplets forming at the top of Rin's hard red cock. Rin watches the erotic sight with half lidded eyes through the fog from his own harsh breathing, holding back from thrusting into that warm tightness because he doesn't want to rock the carriage and accidently throw Haru off and injure him. Instead, he fists his hands in Haru's hair and moans. He throws his head back as his mouth opens to releases a drawn out anguished moan.

Haru trails his tongue down to the base of Rin's cock, his eyes watching Rin's every movement from under his lashes, taking a strange kind of possessive pleasure in the reactions _he _has caused in Rin. He trails it back up, excruciatingly slowly so, and Rin groans and his hip gives a slight buck. The carriage trembles before stilling once again.

Haru smiles a little and gives into the whims of his boyfriend as he opens his mouth and slackens his jaw to take in the whole of Rin's cock in his mouth. He gives a hard suck.

The effect is instantaneous. Rin's hands tighten and he's panting heavily now, his jaw hanging open in silent moans. At this point, the idea of someone listening matters very little to the two, and has little or no consequence to their activities.

Haru lets Rin guide his head with his large hands, and moans around the cock in his mouth when he feels the slight friction of his jeans over his own hardened cock at every movement.

With a strangled grunt, Rin comes, and Haru drinks it up without complaint and he laps up the residue left on the now semi-hard flesh as Rin slowly comes down from his high.

They quickly rearrange their clothes and Rin brushes his hands through Haru's mussed hair while Haru works on buttoning up his shirt.

They come off the ride watchful of the attendee's oblivious eyes. They flee the amusement park, sending each other small secretive smiles and chuckles that fade into the chilly night air.

Later, Rin repays the favour in the hotel room in full and more, and Haru's scream becomes one of many to come.

* * *

Haru doesn't remember the number of times they've met anymore, or what days – but they meet a lot.

Haru understands that is he undoubtedly, and inexplicably, in love with Rin, and sometimes he finds himself wondering why. For being an overly friendly, borderline obnoxious and in-your-face, there was something about Rin that made him impossible to hate.

But more than that, he wonders what made this man so attached with him. What was attractive about him? What did Rin like about him?

Haru asks him about it one day.

"What do you like about me?"

Rin looks surprised, looking at him from the opposite end of the couch where he lays sprawled, the television blaring a soccer game, whereas Haru sits in a way that unconsciously conserves space – with his legs tucked in and his arms loosely wrapped around them and his chin placed on his knees while he watches Rin unabashedly with that unblinking stare of his.

Rin grins, and with his own toothy grin, he replies: "Everything."

* * *

It's raining, and Haru's sitting in front of the television, alone on the couch, while he waits for Rin to come back. The pitter patter of the rain against the window panes is drowned out the by clunking of the laundry machine because he needs to go to work tomorrow, but nevertheless, Haru can still hear the rain from the television as the male news reporter stands in front of a blocked off street under an umbrella, shouting over the rain at the camera to announce the car that has veered off the street and crashed into pedestrians, killing one and injuring three others.

Haru watches, and absently notes the shops in the background to realise that it's not far from the restaurant. He wonders how Nagisa is taking it, and feels a tinge of pity for his small friend.

The camera zooms in past the reporter, while the reporter continues to shout, to show a familiar sight of distorted metal, partly hidden by the four, give or take, frantic ambulance care assistants.

When they all move to transport the other injured victim onto the next gurney, Haru knows the last body, lying in the pink mixture of rain water and blood that continues to grow increasingly translucent by the second, is the dead one.

Haru sees the blue cop uniform, the red hair darker than diluted blood.

Dazedly, he thinks to himself that he was wrong – there is no impassive blankness, there are no open arms, and _there is no drought _– as a warm and wet trail runs down both his cheeks.

Haru can still vividly remember that rainy Tuesday

* * *

**that character development+symbolism.**

**Uh. This is pretty rushed idk I'm too tired I'll check over it later**

**But I did put in quite a lot of effort in this so _please leave a review?_ reviews make me so happy you have no idea **

**maybe I'll even be motivated enough to finish 'change rooms' but does anyone even care about it anymore? ahahaha**

**byeee**


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